


end of our days (and so we begin again)

by Eissel



Series: Argent Impetus (Timekeeper AU) [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (Less philosophically heavy this time), (Sorta anyways), Alchemists made Death into their bitch, Alchemy runs on energy not magic damnit, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Biology? I Don't Know Her, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussions About Life and Death, Gen, Gun Violence, Hospitalization, Major Character Injury, Memory Alteration, Parallels, Pre-Canon, Resurrection, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, These idiots are more alike than they want the other to know, This has major consequences, Turns out equivalent exchange works even on the thermodynamic level
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eissel/pseuds/Eissel
Summary: Edward Elric died on Tuesday, March 12th 15:34:02, 1912.2 hours later, he wakes up.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang
Series: Argent Impetus (Timekeeper AU) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569994
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	end of our days (and so we begin again)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m still a bit split on if I should consider this strictly canon to the Timekeeper AU (that name still needs a bit of revision imo), mostly because of how I want the limitations of alchemy (and some other interesting side stuff) to work. It was a neat idea nonetheless, so I figured I’d list it under the AU, but I’m leaving it kinda hanging out in limbo for now.
> 
> So yeah, not a strict new entry in the series, but a neat idea I had while thinking about its mechanics that may or may not be canon, we’ll see down the line.
> 
> (Oh yeah, 24hr/Military time is used instead of 12hr, forgive me. Also forgive me for the shit biology/thermodynamics dump in the middle of this, I swear I know more about both subjects than is actually written, but uh, hey pre-apology for any Biology Majors reading this!)
> 
> Content Warnings: Gun Violence, Knife Violence (Just, a lot of heavy violence in general), Character Death (temporary), Injury of a Minor

It should have been a regular mission. Of course, Ed had learned long ago, that when it came to the Bastard Colonel and his busywork missions, that nothing could ever go his way. 

Which was why he was facing down some whackjob and trying to calm him down before he shot an innocent passerby, or a hostage, or  _ someone.  _

“Put down the gun.” Ed said forcefully, regretting slightly that he hadn’t taken the lessons on negotiations Hughes had offered him a few weeks prior. 

“No! You think I’m gonna bow down to the military’s  _ bitch? _ ” The man laughed hysterically, keeping a firm grip on the firearm. Ed kept his eyes fixed on it, watching for the moment the guy decided to apply any sort of pressure to the trigger. 

“I am  _ not  _ the military’s  _ bitch. _ ” Ed growled, readying himself to clap.

“You State Alchemists are all the  _ same,  _ just unfeeling  _ monsters. _ ” The guy spat, and he leveled the gun at Ed. “Now, why don’t you get down on your knees huh pipsqueak? Maybe I’ll let you live if you beg hard enough.” Ed felt his temper rise as he froze up. 

“Shut the  _ fuck  _ up! I’m sure as hell not gonna bow down to the likes of you!” He growled and clapped his hands together, one of his many earthen arrays coming to mind. “Chew on  _ this! _ ” 

Normally, the transmutation would’ve gone off without a hitch, would’ve encased the man in a mound of dirt, disabling him and trapping him until the Military Police could get there and stick him in a jail car, leaving Ed’s afternoon free to spend some time with Al. 

Normally however, Ed’s attention wasn’t split three ways between the transmutation, reigning in his temper as much as he was able to, and the gun that was still being swung around. 

This factored in, Ed made a simple mistake. 

In trapping the man, he forgot to account for the instinctive actions a person would take as they tried to escape the transmutation, futile though they may be. A consequence of those actions was commonly the trapped person closing their hands into a fist as they prepared to take a running stance. 

The guy’s hands tightened into fists.

The one that held the gun pressed down on the trigger.

Ed found himself sprawled on the ground staring up at the sky. 

(60 years, 11 months, 2 weeks, 3 days, 12 hours 3 minutes 18 seconds left on the clock)

* * *

“Afternoon Fullmetal.” Ed groaned. 

_ Fuck, so I get to hear the bastard’s voice from beyond the grave, just fantastic. Fan-fucking- **tastic**.  _

“Shut the fuck up Mustang, I don’t want to hear you bitching at me for the rest of my non-corporeal existence.” 

“What in the sweet hell are you talking about Fullmetal? Surely you didn’t get yourself  _ extra  _ brain damage on top of your normal amount.”

“FUCK YOU MUSTANG! I’M A  **_FUCKING_ ** PRODIGY! YOU SAID SO YOURSELF!” As he sat up, bolt upright, he realized a crucial detail.

He wasn’t dead. 

That.. That didn’t pan out. 

“What the  _ fuck? _ ” He breathed, waving his hands in front of his face, unable to accept that he was  _ alive and breathing.  _

“So you rejoined the land of the sane. Congrats Fullmetal.”

“Shut your mouth for like two seconds bastard.” He pinched himself and yelped. “Oww… Okay, fuck, so this isn’t a dream.” He breathed in deeply. “ _ What the fuck. _ ” 

“You came back.” Mustang said, as though this didn’t need explaining, and what fucking world was  _ he  _ living in that people just _came back_ from being dead? 

“People don’t come  _ back  _ from being dead idiot. Dead is dead.”

“Alchemists come back.” Ed looked at the older man incredulously. 

“You’re telling  _ me,  _ that because I can perform  _ alchemy _ , I can come back to life whenever the fuck I want?” Mustang eyed him like he was a particularly unstable mental patient, and he was considering whether or not to tranq him.

“Have you never died before Edward?” Ed narrowed his eyes at the name switch. “Oh  _ fuck me  _ **_sideways_ ** you haven’t.” The man sat down at the foot of Ed’s bed. “Fuck, I figured you had died doing human transmutation.” 

“You wanna explain this shit before I hurt you Mustang?” Ed threatened. The raven haired man took out a pocket watch and opened it. 

“Have you ever reset a clock Edward?”

“I’ve  _ lived,  _ so  _ yes,  _ I  _ have. _ ”

“Not a regular clock. Your Life Clock.” Ed froze. (He had at least 60 years, he didn’t just halve his life span, did he?)

“Of fucking course not, what, you think I want to mess with God or whoever the fuck and land myself in more hot water? It’s a clock that counts down  _ to your death,  _ if I messed with it, it’d probably kill me in the next 5 minutes.”

“If you give something up, you can adjust your clock.”

“Well that’s just fuckin’ peachy! What’s equivalent to 5 minutes then huh?”

“An earth and metals transmutation of 15 grams.” Mustang said matter-of-factly. 

“What.”

“Or a flowing water transmutation of 10 grams. Or some flesh, or 2 seconds of open flame transmutations. The calculations get updated every year.” Ed stared at Mustang like he grew another fucking head. 

“Alright, alright. So whatever, we get alchemy in exchange for having a fucked up lifespan, and we  _ do  _ alchemy to extend that lifespan, I  _ get  _ that. But, and shut your bastard mouth Colonel Useless When Wet, how the fuck do you  _ give up  _ alchemical  _ transmutations  _ for a longer life? When you transmute shit, you’re taking energy from tectonic movement and dumping that into the array, which rejuvenates your cells because they’re getting a burst of new energy. Or sort of new anyways, Laws of Thermodynamics and all that.”

“Yes, congrats Fullmetal, you have accurately parroted back at me a summary of what every alchemy master tells their student on the first week of their alchemy studies, would you like a medal for it?” Mustang snarked. “But is it really so hard to envision that if the equation that leads to alchemical power requires  _ life  _ then the opposite must be true for life?”

Ed processed his words for a second. 

“So you’re saying that when I died, I gave something up to come back to life? Well that’s all well and good, but I sure as shit feel and look intact bastard. Come up with a different lie.”

“Do a transmutation for me Fullmetal, steel to pig iron.” Ed scoffed, and clapped his hands envisioning the array in his head.

And immediately drew his hands apart. “What the  _ fuck. _ ” Mustang frowned, and his eyes narrowed.

“What happened? In detail Fullmetal.”

“I… The array was  _ gone,  _ I couldn’t remember it...”

“Well that’s one form of exchange certainly. It’s a good thing you’re so versatile, otherwise that damage could be much worse.” Ed tuned him out, focused on calling up array after array. Most of them were intact, but some… 

Some of them he couldn’t call up a mental picture of the array, some of them the array was damaged and while he could  _ fix  _ it, it took him a moment to remember why certain sigils and runes went where they did and what the array was for in the first place. 

“It takes your knowledge.” Ed said in horror. “If you aren’t conscious when you’re  _ dying  _ it takes your fucking  _ knowledge  _ if you have time left on the clock?” Mustang nodded. 

“That’s right Fullmetal, and that’s why you have to be careful.”

(He has 65 years on the clock. Something is wrong.)

* * *

There was a point to this. 

At least that was what Mustang  _ claimed.  _ Ed shouldn’t have believed him for a damn  _ second. _

He stared down the barrel of a rifle. 

“And you’re dead.” Mustang said deadpan. 

“Since when do  _ you  _ use rifles?”

“Since I was a cadet Fullmetal, I’m proficient with more than just my alchemy.”

“Funny, I always thought you were a one trick pony.” He shot back, and sat on the ground. “What the fuck is the point of this whole shebang? Pretend kill me, and I writhe on the ground in agony?”

“The  _ point  _ is to teach you situational awareness Fullmetal, unless you want to lose some more of those arrays in your head.” Ed sat up straight, glaring at the ground. It had taken him 2 months (too long he knew, like something was blocking him from remembering the information as well or as fast as he should’ve been able to) 

“Shut the fuck up Mustang.” He ground out and stood up. “Let’s get this shit fucking over with.”

* * *

When he dies next, it’s by Hawkeye’s hand. 

It’s an accident, on yet another mission gone wrong because Colonel Bastard sure knew how to pick ‘em. 

He’s too slow in moving out of her way, and he gets shot in the heart. 

As the world fades out from him, he sees her stricken expression fade away into a sort of blank numbness. Ed can’t help but wonder:

_ How many times has she seen the Colonel die and get right back up? Is that why she doesn’t look worried? _

_ Is that why she looked so scared when she saw that it was  _ **_me?_ **

(60 to 65 to 59 to 60.)

* * *

“How many times bastard?” He asks, looked directly into black eyes that are  _ much  _ too old for the face they’re in. 

“I’ve lost count.”

“No the fuck you haven’t.”

“This is your first.”

“I’m not asking about  _ me  _ asshole. Jeez, when I finally give you my attention you’re just damn determined to throw it out the window huh?” They fall silent, and Ed wonders how to get the answer out of Mustang. 

“50.” He says. “Probably more, but at least 50. She’s seen me die 50 times.” Which poses a whole new fucking question. 

_ What the hell is Mustang exchanging? _

* * *

When Mustang takes the brunt of a building collapse (one that Ed should’ve been caught in), he visits the man in the hospital.

_ Blood pooling out from the wreckage, Falman was barking out orders over the shrieking sirens, the first time Ed had seen the man be so  _ **_angry._ ** _ Fuery was moving debris, and as one of the guys from the squad that had joined them on the mission attempted to pull him back, the mild mannered technician snapped at him.  _

_ “My commanding officer is underneath there! Now either help me or get the fuck out of the way!” He pushed the man aside roughly, and kept digging.  _

_ Havoc and Hawkeye emerged dusty and sooty, military jackets discarded.  _

_ “Where’s the Chief?” Havoc asked, blue eyes scanning the scene? _

_ “We found the package just before the building collapsed.” Hawkeye added, frowning slightly when the figure of Roy Mustang did not miraculously appear in front of her. No one moved a muscle. Ed swallowed, the sight of the Colonel yelling at him to get out looping in his memories.  _

What was he going to exchange? 

_ He had **seen** Mustang’s clock, he had  _ **_at least_ ** _ another 40 years, he wasn’t going to die because of a stupid fucking building, he  _ **_couldn’t._ ** _ Because Mustang was brash, and an asshole, and more than a bit of a dick, but he was also Roy Mustang, the untouchable young colonel of the Amestrian military, the one who hauled Ed onto his feet and told him to stop pitying himself and to do something about his situation, the person who was at once a chaotic storm of missions, requests, intrigue, and conspiracy, and a beacon of calm.  _

_ He wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be dead, he had 40 years on that fucking clock. _

_ “He was under the building as it collapsed.” Falman said, walking up to him. “We’re trying to get him out no-” _

_ “Found him!” Fuery yelled triumphantly. “Someone come help me drag him out!” _

_ When Ed had the chance to see him, he shivered.  _

_ Roy Mustang was dead. _

_ The cause?  _

_ A metal beam to the abdomen.  _

_ Ed felt like throwing up. _

Ed sits on the bed, swinging his legs. “Wake the fuck up bastard, it’s too fucking weird without you.”

“Didn’t know you cared Fullmetal.” Ed turned so quickly, it was like he had given himself whiplash. 

“ _ How the **fuck** - _ ”

“Pipe down pipsqueak.” Mustang groaned.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL A FLEA WOULD BE BIGGER THAN HIM?!”

“Oh my- Shut the  _ fuck up  _ Fullmetal, your voice is like acid.” Mustang cringed, and rubbed circles into his temples. Ed settled, waited for Mustang to sit up and stop looking like he’d been run over mentally, and sucked in a deep breath. 

“Why?” He asked.

“Why  _ what? _ ”

“Why’d you save me, you knew we didn’t have both have time to get out.”

_ The walls were shaking, Ed realized they’d dislodged a load bearing beam. Mustang had cursed and shoved Ed at the fragile wall. _

_ “The package bastard!” _

_ “We don’t have the time Fullmetal! Now get out!” Ed fell face first out of the opening in the crumbling wall. Mustang was right after him, vaulting over the crumbling sections. He hauled Ed up, and they ran for the entrance.  _

_ He recalled Mustang pushing him at the exit, remembered someone screaming from behind them, saw a flash of silver that probably belonged to a knife. “Get  _ **_out_ ** _ Edward!”  _

_ Then he saw the building come down on them, and felt lost. _

“You lose knowledge when you die.” Mustang said, though Ed could swear there was a slight bit of an inflection near the end (like he was asking a question).

“Of course bastard.”

“Well, no one knows what the exchange is in full, so it was better for me to take the hit than risk making you lose valuable knowledge. Like the knowledge of how to perform arrayless alchemy for instance.” (Not like he  _ could,  _ but what the hell did  _ he  _ know right?)

“So your sacrifice was less important than mine?” That left a bitter taste in Ed’s mouth.

“No two people are the same.” Mustang fired back, before slumping in his bed. “Ugh, just call the nurse in, I need to get discharged ASAP.”

“Good luck with that bastard.” Ed snorted, and picked up a magazine. It was an alchemy journal, not one that Ed was subscribed to, but he recognized it as being one of the popular bio-alchemy focused ones. “Since when did you become interested in bio-alchemy?”

“Field medicinal use.” Ed shrugged, and opened the magazine. He frowned a few moments later. 

“When the hell was this published? It’s marked fuckin’ nowhere here! All the normal places it would be are scratched out!”  _ Like someone was trying to hide the date. _

“I don’t remember off the top of my head Fullmetal, I got that copy second hand.” Ed shot him a glare. Cheapskate.

(Mustang’s pocket watch is open. He has 45 years left. Something is wrong.)

* * *

It was raining outside. 

“I had to give my report  _ today! _ ” Ed ranted. “You’re telling me he just  _ forgot?! _ ” Scowling he threw himself on the office couch, and glared from there at the members of Mustang’s team.

“The Colonel has had a busy week Edward.” Hawkeye said from her desk, not looking up. “I’m certain he won’t be too long now.”

The Colonel walked back in an hour later. 

Ed rose to shout at him for being late when Al forced him to sit back down.

“Fuck was that about Al?” Al pointed at the cane Mustang was currently putting all his weight on. Ed’s eyes widened. 

He didn’t bring up his report.

* * *

He broke into Records. (It wasn’t like anyone was going to stop him except for maybe Al, and his brother was off on an errand to get groceries.)

He found Mustang’s file fairly easily, and spread it out on the table.

_ June 7th 1913 - Admitted to East City Central Hospital _

_ Cause of Admittance: Stab wound to the chest, punctured lung. _

_ Reason of Discharge: Alchemical Exchange _

Those three details stuck out to him like blood on white cloth.

The answer to the long burning question he had about Mustang’s exchange was staring up at him.

_ The blacked out publishing dates. _

_ The way he said what my exchange was. _

_ Hawkeye looked so scared when she thought he died. _

_ 40 years turned to 45 back to 40. _

He closed the file, and put it back.

It was still raining.

* * *

It is Monday, November 19th, 12:04:53. 

Edward takes the knife meant for Mustang.

He wakes up 2 hours later, a bunch of arrays in pieces or completely gone from his memory. 

It’s worth it.

(Mustang has at least 40 years on his clock, and Ed has at least 60.

Everything is  _ right. _ )


End file.
